
Originally Posted by
Lallante
To be fair we all (and by we I mean the less neckbeardy of us!) have been in relationships we have let drag on a lot longer than they should have because of [factor X] which meant we didn't feel able to break up right then and there when we should have.
Case in point, 6 or 7 years back I spent a year with this absolutely lovely, stunning, lovely sensitive girl who in retrospect I was in love with but I was much too shut off about such things to ever admit it. It was my first "proper" relationship and she absolutely adored me. She had a number of issues stemming from her childish, somewhat self-centred mother (who she loved very much, but had to cover for while her mom cheated on her dad!). I was a little immature and v. much not ready to settle down. After a summer mostly apart while I did work experience in London, I felt restless, and that I needed to get more experience with other girls (/groups of girls) and invited her to come stay with me and tried to break up with her.
Absolute fail. I launched into my carefully rehearsed explanation of how I felt and 10 words in she stopped me and said she had found out that very day that her dad had found out about her mom's indiscretions (comedy: her mom and her bf had broken down in my gf's car while on a dirty weekend masquarading as a visit to my gf, and her mom had the audacity to call her dad to come pick them up / fix the car!) and they were getting a divorce.
I basically couldn't break up with her - I felt too bad. 6 months later, with little changed and fending off attention from elsewhere beginning to drag I finally managed the deed. This time, still an immature coward, I explained it to her in a bar rather than one of our houses. This time she seemed to take it well (seen it coming?) but as she had just moved house, her friends were away etc, she asked me to come look around her new house anyway as she wanted to fill the afternoon and not be alone. I agreed.
We walked to her house 30 mins away, and as we got closer she got slower and slower and started sobbing. She perked up once we arrived and she quickly ushered me in and gave me the tour, ending in her bedroom. She then started to undress. Scared and with nfi what to do at this point, I said I thought it was better if I left and went downstairs.
The front door was locked from the inside. No key. FUCK.
I ran back upstairs, where she was by now crying her eyes out. It took me a further hour of trying to calm her down, culminating in an abortive attempt to climb out an upstairs window to persuade her to let me go. As she opened the front door to let me leave she sank to the floor and grabbed my ankles, basically being dragged with me as I crossed the threshhold. "You can't leave me"...
My hero mates were still in the pub next to the original bar, waiting for me for consolation drinks post breakup - they had waited the best part of 4 hours!
Bizarrely, years on she and I are still occassional friends. I sometimes think that despite the above temp crazy, if I'd met her 5 years later we could have probably been pretty happy (though my current gf is even better!).
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